


Fashion Sense

by Pennygirl612



Category: White Collar
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612
Summary: Neal discovers some unwanted knowledge about Peter and his sense of fashion.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

“Uh, Neal, whatcha doing, Sweetie?” 

Startled at the sound of Elizabeth’s voice, Neal froze. He had just entered the Burke residence, hadn’t he? Glancing at his watch, Neal was shocked to discover he had been in Casa Burke for over an hour. He had only meant to sneak in long enough to confirm his suspicion and get out, but once inside he had lost all track of time when he uncovered more questions than actual answers.

Without thinking, Neal quickly straightened his body out of its crouched position banging his head on the low shelf in the process. A curse escaped his lips results from both the pain of striking his head as well as being caught scouring through Peter’s clothes. 

With as much dignity as one could possibly muster giving the circumstances, Neal backed out of the small space with an award-winning smile on his face, greeting Elizabeth as if it wasn’t an unusual occurrence at all to come home and find a man sifting through her husband’s garments. 

Giving his handler’s wife a once over, Neal assessed the situation and breathed a small sigh of relief noting only amusement and curiosity in Elizabeth’s eyes. Spying a glass of wine in her one hand, bottle of beer in the other, he confidently stepped forward stealing the glass from her hand. 

Taking a sip, Neal watched Elizabeth twist off the beer cap, a slight upturn of her lip letting him know that she was on to his game that she knew he was up to some kind of mischief and would wait as long as it took for him to offer up an explanation for why he had not only broken into her house but why he was in her bedroom going through her husband’s things. And if he was reading the situation correctly, she looked forward to whatever con he was going to try and sell her. The only problem was Neal never expected to get caught so he had no ready-made explanation at his disposal which meant he was going to have to improvise. But he was pretty good at that.

Deciding offense was the best defense, Neal waved his hand over the spread of ties lying on the bed, taking on an air of outrage. “These are downright hideous,” Neal said dramatically. Then he pointed out the shirts. “And these while dull and boring are reasonable enough except for some reason I can’t even begin to explain your husband chooses to pair checkered shirts with striped ties or striped shirts with polka dot ties.” 

Elizabeth took a pull off the beer and nodded as if she understood Neal’s point. She did, to an extent. Her husband had his own sense of…dare she say fashion? And though no one else knew it, there was a distinct reason behind his style. But she wasn’t about to be distracted by Neal’s attempts at diversion, and she let him know it. Pointing the beer bottle at him, she said firmly, “Still doesn’t explain why you’re in his closet.”

“I saw your husband half-naked today,” Neal blurted without thinking. 

Elizabeth nodded as if that did somehow explain things. Then she smiled and with a sultry voice said, “Nice, huh?!”

Blinking quickly, Neal’s face turned slightly pink. “Actually, yes,” Neal admitted. Then he reached back into the closet to pull out a suit jacket. “Which makes this a miscarriage of justice! And frankly I’m disappointed in you for letting Peter leave the house dressed like he is,” he said scolding her. “None of these jackets are even the right size to fit him. It’s as if-?”

“-they’ve been professionally altered to be about a half size too big?” Elizabeth supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!” Neal agreed. Then narrowed his eyes at her suddenly innocent expression. “Wait. What?! No-no he doesn’t. He wouldn’t! Elizabeth, why?!”

At his sputtered speech, Elizabeth couldn’t help herself. She broke out laughing. “Blame Peter Falk.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Peter Falk,” she repeated. “You know, the actor from the detective show,” she explained when he still looked clueless. Sighing, she shrugged, “the heyday of the show was a little before your time.”

Neal looked skeptical. “What does a television show have to do with your husband’s fashion sense?”

Elizabeth thought it best for him to see for himself what she was talking about. Grabbing ahold of his hand, she led him down the stairs, and placed him squarely on the couch. “Don’t move,” she ordered as she left the room.

Elizabeth returned a moment later, carrying the bottle of wine, a second glass, along with cheese and crackers. After refilling Neal’s glass, Elizabeth picked up the remote turning on the television. 

“Watch and learn,” Elizabeth said as she settled down next to him.

Two hours later as the credits rolled…

“No,” Neal said a look of horror on his face. “Peter does not think he’s Columbo!” Neal exclaimed and then drained the last dregs of his wine. Reaching for the bottle, he frowned seeing it empty as well as a second bottle he didn’t remember Elizabeth ever even opening. 

Elizabeth giggled; her face flushed. “The quasi-bumbling idiot routine, the semi-sloppy appearance, you have to admit the persona works for Peter. It makes people underestimate him. You certainly never thought he’d catch you,” Elizabeth pointed out. 

“Yes, but you’re telling me it’s-it’s all been an act!” Neal exclaimed, now up off the couch pacing before her, running a hand through his hair. He was having a hard time believing that he could have been deceived so easily.

“Of course not!” Elizabeth snorted. “It’s all been a con!” Snickering, she asked, “did you really think I could fall for a guy like that when Peter’s actually--” Elizabeth abruptly cut herself off. 

The blur that had been a pacing Neal, suddenly stopped directly in front of Elizabeth and the room became eerily silent. Slowly, she raised her eyes to look at Neal who stared back at her with a deer in the headlight look. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Peter’s actually what, Elizabeth?!” Neal asked through clenched teeth.

Elizabeth started to speak, then promptly closed her mouth. She had probably already said too much or at the very least Peter would think so. Wine often had that effect on her. However, Neal was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. “I shouldn’t have told you about the Columbo thing,” Elizabeth said in an apologetic tone. 

“Elizabeth Burke, what are you not telling me?!” Neal found his patience to be at a breaking point as he tried to wrap his head around the Columbo thing and judging from Elizabeth’s expression there was more. “Tell me.”

With a skeptical look, she said, “I don’t think you can handle it.”

“I can. I absolutely can,” Neal insisted, despite the slight hard edge to his voice indicating otherwise.

“You’re going to overreact,” Elizabeth predicted.

Hand over his heart, Neal attempted to look sincere as he vowed, “I promise I won’t.”

Falling victim to his blue-eyed pleading look, Elizabeth sighed and conceded. “Follow me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal learns of a different side to Peter.

Once again taking his hand, Elizabeth led Neal up the stairs but this time they continued down the hall to the guest bedroom. Once inside, she told him to check out the closet and became amused when Neal hesitated in front of the door as if afraid to see what lay on the other side.

And Neal in his drunken state was indeed wary to see what surprise awaited him. Stalling, he said jokingly, “Let me guess. A closet full of drab, beige trench coats?”

The fact that Elizabeth didn’t respond should have told him something. But nothing could have prepared Neal for what he found inside, and it wasn’t trench coats. Hastily, Neal shut the door, half convinced what he had seen was really a wine-induced hallucination. Risking a glance back at Elizabeth, she raised an eyebrow at him before nodding back towards the closet. Neal got the impression that she was rather enjoying the moment, and he was almost certain she had wanted him to see this from the moment she had caught him in their bedroom complaining about her husband's clothes.

Slowly, Neal opened the door and confirmed his eyes had not been playing tricks on him. Inside were suits, and not Peter’s typical Brooks Brothers’ version. No, these were of high-end quality, expensive, and nothing like Neal had ever seen Peter wear before. Stepping closer, Neal began his hands-on examination starting with the black tuxedo. It was of simple but classic design and Neal didn’t need to look at the label to recognize the elegance of Armani when he saw it. 

Neal closed his eyes and re-opened them. The Armani remained in sight. Up til now, Neal had been convinced that Peter had no concept of fashion whatsoever having once been advised by the agent that he looked like a cartoon wearing Byron’s Devore. Yet, Peter Burke, the man Neal knew to match checkered shirts with striped ties, the man who professionally altered his work suits to be a half size too big, the man who thought of himself as Agent Columbo, owned a damn Armani. And the world as Neal knew it, had not just stopped turning but had flipped upside down. And he desperately wanted to address this with Elizabeth, but having promised not to overreact, Neal, instead silently counted to ten before gently pushing the Armani aside to examine the next suit. 

Now in front on him was the modern unique styling of Thom Browne. Taking a sleeve in his hand, his mind jumped to how Peter would look wearing the gray shadow stripe suit. Only five minutes earlier, this particular design was something Neal would have believed to be completely outside Peter’s comfort zone. Yet, Neal’s assessing eye recognized the wool jacket would fit perfectly across the agent’s broad shoulders. Paired with the matching striped tie and a simple white dress shirt, Peter’s expansive chest would be on prominent display, the material stretching tightly across his muscles. In short, Peter would wear it well and that knowledge caused a frustrated sigh to escape Neal. Now that he could visualize the possibilities, Neal wanted nothing more than to gather up all Peter’s ill-fitting garments and take great pleasure in burning them down to ash.

But the knowledge that Elizabeth was watching his every move anticipating his meltdown forced Neal to take a settling breath and refocus his attention on the next suit in line. With this one, he immediately recognized the minimalist yet sleek styling of Tom Ford. The simplicity, the understated grace of the navy-blue suit could come from no other. And this time when he visualized Peter, the older man was standing at the head of the conference room table at work quietly delving out orders that had those in the room falling over one another to obey. That is all except himself, of course, who would be immune to Peter in the power suit, and his exuding authority and charisma and that deep, commanding voice and...subconsciously Neal leaned in closer to the jacket.

The sound of a single, fake cough brought Neal crashing back to the present. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he attempted to reconcile the Peter Burke he knew with the one capable of wearing these suits. He hadn’t wanted to believe Elizabeth when she said it was a con, thought she was teasing him, but he couldn’t deny the solid, very expensive proof right before his very eyes.

With a sigh, Neal focused on the last remaining suit wanting to finish what he had started and leave as quickly and with as much of his dignity left as possible. Looking over the suit, Neal inhaled sharply as he moved closer to examine the label, needing confirmation of what he already knew to be true. He read the label twice before believing it possible and Neal half swooned, mind blown at what was hanging so gallantly before him. He had never seen one up close and in person before, but oh, he had dreamed of how it would look and feel against his skin.

And Neal lost it, right then and there, he simply lost it. The normally self-contained, always in control man felt the blood rushing southward and all he could do was stand there in complete awe of what was before him. He was staring at a Fioravanti. It was like discovering the holy grail of suits! Gingerly removing the jacket from its hanger like it was some priceless piece of art which in Neal’s mind it was, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, instantly overcome by the fragrance of expensive Italian wool. 

Caressing the lapel, his fingers tracing across the soft feel of the charcoal gray Italian-English blend, Neal nearly had an orgasmic experience right there in the closet of the Burke’s guest room. And for a moment, he forgot he wasn’t alone in the room as he fondled the material, admiring the hand craftmanship that went into such a fine, exquisite suit. No, not just a suit, he reminded himself, a Fioravanti!

“Neal…Neal, sweetie! Are you okay?” Elizabeth asked, her amusement evident in her voice.

Neal blinked, and as he returned to his body, he found himself in a rather bad state and with no way to keep it hidden from Elizabeth. But to hell with it, he thought! Feeling enraged and justifiably so, Neal swung around and stared her down, not even blushing or bothering to cover his reaction to the suit. 

“Do I look like I’m okay, Elizabeth?!” he hissed angrily. “Truth be told, it’s been a rather trying day. And I’m more than a little tired of you taking great enjoyment out of dropping bombshell after bombshell on me!” 

Wisely, Elizabeth kept her mouth shut, letting him rant rather than say anything that would antagonize him further. She couldn’t help but notice how adorable he was all worked up like this though her eyes were having trouble maintaining focus on Neal’s face with his—excitement so evident. 

“Damnit Elizabeth, my world has just been turned upside down!” He held up the jacket. “The Peter I know can’t even pronounce Fioravanti let alone afford to own one!”

“And the Peter I know,” Elizabeth said calmly, “not only can afford Fioravanti, Ford, Browne, and Armani, but looks damn sexy in them!”

“So what, he’s Agent Columbo by day, George Clooney by night?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, eyes twinkling. “The agent turns into a suave, debonair man of extreme sophistication.”

“Suave and debonair? Peter Burke?!” Neal said incredulously. “Peter’s best pickup line is to tell a woman she looks thirsty!”

Elizabeth only smiled. 

“Extreme sophisticated? He drinks cheap beer!”

“He prefers a nice glass of Bordeaux preferably from Petrus.”

And that made Neal stop and gap at her. Petrus was the well-renowned wine estate in France and made some of the most expensive and exclusive wines in all the world. It was the Fioravanti of wine. And Neal would know having allegedly counterfeited a bottle or two over the years. The Peter he knew thought fine wine shouldn’t cost any more than his beer. It was rather disconcerting to imagine Peter, glass in hand, really appreciating the balance and complexity of the vintage, having a life-altering experience with every sip. 

He risked another look over at Elizabeth whose obvious amusement was really starting to tick Neal off. Taking another deep breath, Neal attempted to regroup with something he considered safe ground, something there was no way Elizabeth was able to dispute. “Well, what about the deviled ham? That’s some refined pallet your husband has.”

Elizabeth looked away, biting her lip in the process. A move that did not go unnoticed by Neal.

“What?” Neal said, heart sinking. Peter loved the mystery meat, never failing to torture him with its hideous aroma. Of this, Neal had no doubt…until now. “You’re telling me he doesn’t like deviled ham? He has it on every stakeout.”

Elizabeth made a face. “What sane person likes deviled ham? Peter gets sick as a dog every time he eats it.” When Neal looked confused, Elizabeth sighed and then explained. “I would think you of all people would understand the use of props and the length you sometimes have to go to sell a con.”

And he did know, but this was Peter she was talking about. He was supposed to be the honest lawman while he was the criminal. Peter was the mark not Neal. Head spinning from both the wine, suits, and Elizabeth’s revelations, Neal sat down hard on the end of the bed. Hands on his head, he couldn’t look at Elizabeth. He didn’t want to believe it, and wouldn’t have if not for the suits, both the ugly ones in Peter’s closet that told one story and those from the guestroom that told another. Neal had to face the truth that the con man had been conned. And Neal wasn’t sure whether to be ashamed, angry, or simply in awe at how expertly he had been played. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needing to know the truth, Neal tests Peter.

“Neal? Neal?”

He woke with a start, his head snapping back from where it had been leaning into his arm against the window of the passenger door. Still in that in between stage of wake versus sleep, Neal had heard someone call him by name, but it wasn’t coming from Elizabeth beside him on the bed, it came from Peter who was sitting next to him in the driver’s seat of Peter’s car. 

Feeling a little dazed as the dream slowly faded from his consciousness, Neal looked over at his partner with suspicion wondering if the Peter Burke he knew was real. His vision had been a little too vivid, leaving him to question everything. It was a disconcerting feeling to say the least not only to think Peter did appreciate the finer things in life, but that he could so expertly fool Neal.

“Are you okay? You seemed to be having a nightmare or something,” Peter advised.

Nodding, Neal waited until he had caught Peter’s eye and then asked, “I didn’t say anything about a Fioravanti, did I?”

Peter looked puzzled, “Four what? Vans?”

“Fioravanti,” Neal answered patiently, assessing Peter’s every facial expression. 

“I don’t even know what that is,” Peter confessed looking dumbfounded.

“How about Columbo?” Neal asked. 

“The tv detective? No,” Peter said laughing. “That must have been some dream you were having!”

Neal ignored Peter’s ridicule as he focused on Peter’s jacket and thought about the navy-blue suit in his dream. “This wouldn’t be a Ford, would it?” 

Now Peter’s expression showed concern. “Yeah, it’s a Taurus,” he told Neal. “Same car I’ve been driving for the past five years. Are you okay? You’re not making much sense. Did you hit your head or something?”

Neal shook his head. “I’m fine, just tired,” he assured Peter, and for the first time, Neal found doubt cracking his certainty that Peter was more than he seemed.

“Maybe you should come home with me tonight. It’s Friday. Let El pamper you this weekend. I even have wine.” 

At the mention of wine, Neal perked up. “Petrus?” he asked watching Peter’s expression for any slippage.

“I bought a nice bottle of Cabernet,” he said. Then added proudly, “it’s from Australia.” 

Neal reluctantly asked, “Yellow Tail?” And when Peter nodded, Neal couldn’t help it, he recoiled.

Neal’s intense reaction caused Peter to frown. “El had that same expression. It cost more than my beer,” Peter grumbled in defense.

Neal looked away, forced himself to breath evenly though his heart was pounding and his thoughts racing. Could Peter be conning him? Was Peter Burke only an alias, a false identity created to con criminals like him? Thus far, Peter had passed all of Neal’s tests and it blew Neal’s mind to think that the man sitting next to him was that good of an actor to be able to fool him. And the crack of doubt grew even more.

Before he could give it any further thought, his brain completely shut down as a horrific smell permeated his nostrils. He turned in time to see Peter unwrapping a sandwich. Elizabeth’s words echoed in his head ‘what sane person likes deviled ham?’

Listening to the little appreciative noises escaping Peter as he happily snacked on the sandwich seemed to dispute that. Eyes closed Peter seemed to be relishing every morsel of the offending smelling mystery meat product. Breaking for a sip of cold coffee, Peter waved it in Neal’s direction. “Want some?” he innocently asked.

Neal backed away, nostrils flaring in disgust. “No!”

Peter shrugged, “More for me.” 

Neal watched as Peter stuffed the last of the deviled ham in his mouth. Ever so slowly he chewed, as if to prolong and savor his enjoyment. Peter finally swallowed and took another sip of coffee. Neal had just turned away when Peter let out a loud, deep from the depths of within burp. The kind of burp that left Neal wondering if anything came up with it. A suave man, Elizabeth had said in his dream.

“Excuse you,” Neal said, and Peter rolled his eyes in response. Then the man stretched his arms. 

“You got this?” Peter asked pointing to the location they were surveilling. 

Neal nodded. The lights were out. From the time they had arrived it had appeared as if no one was inside and their stakeout was going to be a bust. It was the boredom that had led to Neal falling asleep in the first place. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Peter pointed to the shop on the opposite corner. “Got to take a piss.”

Neal glare went unnoticed by Peter who was already exiting the car. Debonair, Elizabeth had said, yet Neal was pretty sure ‘piss’ should not readily flow off the tongue from a man labeled as such. 

Continuing to watch the agent, Neal shook his head as Peter, only a few steps away from the car, absently reached back and not so subtly pulled at the back of his pants. Snorting, Neal felt his body completely relax. Peter Burke, suave and debonair, so called man of extreme sophistication, had just picked out a wedgie. And despite himself, Neal laughed feeling silly for considering even for a moment that this man was anything more than he appeared, that this man could ever con the greatest con artist of all time, one Neal Caffrey. It really had just been a dream…or maybe Peter was right, a nightmare.

Considering the matter closed, Neal returned his attention to their surveillance, making himself comfortable in the car while he waited for Peter to come back and hopefully call it a night.

*****

Crossing the road and entering the corner store, Peter made sure he was out of Neal’s line of sight before pulling out his phone and calling his wife. When the call went to voice mail, he remained calm as he left a message.

“Code Blue,” Peter whispered urgently into the phone. “I repeat Code Blue. I don’t know how but he’s on to me, El! Implement Operation Clean Sweep and commence a full-scale house review. Gather the Fioravanti, the Rolex, the case of Petrus, and anything else non-Peter appropriate and transfer them to our house in the Hamptons. Oh, and that includes your Louis Vuitton’s! We’ve prepared for this possibility, so I know you’ll take care of everything, Hon. Love you.”

Ending the call, Peter turned to leave the store when he grimaced at the discomfort caused by a gaseous pain passing through his abdomen. It was immediately followed by a rumbling Peter was all too familiar with. Wincing at the memory of having to ingest the fowl smelling meat sandwich, Peter knew his intestines were already betraying him, and he rushed to the bathroom.

Several minutes later, Peter emerged and with phone in hand, he left his wife a second message.  
“Have my meds ready,” he instructed. “I had to eat the God damn deviled ham!”


End file.
